Burn Wounds
by 3hunna
Summary: This story follows Atria Viula, a Padawan and budding seer during the post-imperial period, and her struggle to achieve her life long goal of becoming a fully fledged Jedi Knight. (OC Story)
1. Introductions

**_New fanfic? Yes sir! Please note that this is a non-canon "Star Wars" fanfiction story set in a post-Return of the Jedi era. I don't own star wars, nor am I affiliated with them in any way shape or form. I am, uh, borrowing some of the planets, species, groups and stuff like that for non-profit purposes._**

**_Rated T because people will probably make out at some point idk ok we'll see where this goes._**

**_Without further ado, enjoy..._**

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**Coruscant- Early Morning**

**Atria Viula's POV**

"I'm ready," I say as I thumb the power button of my lightsaber. Its blue blade snaps to life and hums at the ready. The light reflects off the beads of sweat on my brow, making me look sickly. I sweep the blade in a high arc above my head and bring it at the ready. My empty hand faces my Bothan opponent while my right holds my lightsaber back and horizontal to my body. My opponent holds his similar, green-tinted blade in both hands in an offensive position. We wait. Then he springs forward.

He starts with a series of horizontal slashes aimed to dismember me from the shoulder down and I instinctively adjust to parry each blow. The cracking of our weapons fills the air, a chorus of hissing snakes ready to kill. He swings towards my kneecaps and I bring my blue weapon down to catch his using both hands to hold him at bay. Our weapons scream at the prolonged contact, but we pay no mind. He pulls back with a flourish and goes for a series of head chops, alternating between downward and arcing slashes. I try not to hold my breath as I lose myself in the combat.

Slash. Block. Slash. Duck. Kick. Roll. Continue. In a span of ten seconds, the Bothan before me tries at least a dozen different strikes aimed to severely maim, kill or both. He spins to build momentum and tries to sever me at the waist with his tremendous physical strength. I make my first mistake in trying to block his lightsaber with mine. His blade pushes mine a mere finger's length away. I struggle to halt its course and the Bothan slams his denser body into mine while I'm preoccupied. I roll and land in a crouch with a little help of the force and lose myself in it entirely.

I feel my opponent spring forward to bring his blade in for a low sweep. I near effortlessly catch it with the tip of my icy blue sword and, with a sweeping motion, change its course to sail harmlessly over my head. I feel a flicker of fear in the alien warrior and gather the force within me.

He momentarily staggers from my counter and it's me who attacks now. With my weapon high above my head, I execute a barrage of two handed attacks aimed to disorient the heavier male in front of me. Left-right-left-right my blade goes with minimal effort on my part. I incorporate the occasional low aiming chop to keep my advantage, but he is skilled and counters my every move.

Just as sudden as an assassin's killing blow, a wave of force energy pushes me backwards and nearly off my feet. I chastise myself for not noticing my enemy gathering his own force powers during my onslaught of blows. I'm just barely able to throw up a force based wall of protection to keep his second push from knocking me to the ground. He uses my momentary lack of focus to bring his weapon in for a harsh diagonal slash. I just barely catch his weapon with mine and redirect its original course. Our blades cut downwards into the hard floor and send a cacophony of spitting sparks into the air. I pick up my defensive stance in anticipation of my enemy's next attack- but it doesn't come.

Instead of attacking me, the Bothan man turns his lightsaber off and attaches its heavy, metal handle to his belt.

"Good," he says with a toothy smile. "Maybe you'll actually scratch me one of these days."

I relax my posture and stow my own weapon in my robes before responding to my friend's playful teasing. "Yes," a similar smile curves my lips. "And maybe I'll stop taking it easy on you one of these days." He gives a deep chuckle while swinging a thickly furred hand over my shoulder.

"Come, my fleshy friend" he says. "I'd like to eat something before the sun comes up." We chuckle and head to the nearest dining hall.

Caath Bom'bassi was one of my closest friends. A Bothan male only a few years my senior, he stood a measly four inches taller than my five-foot-four inch frame and had soft brown fur that clung to every inch of his body. A fully fledged Jedi Knight, he had been helping me practice my dueling skills in preparation for my own Jedi Trials. I didn't know what they would be exactly, but I wanted to be prepared for anything. We had grown together in these very halls with a big-brother-little-sister mentality from the very start. It didn't matter that he was a hairy mammal from Bothawui with large, pointy ears and I was a "fleshy" human girl from Bespin; he was my friend and that was that.

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**_There you go, a brief introduction to two main characters, Atria and Caath! I probably will stick with Atria's POV with minimal jumping around. Chapter two will be up in a few days._**


	2. Premonitions

_**Here's the second installment! Enjoy**_

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Caath and I enter the nearest refectory and claim comfortable seats by a window overlooking the dark, Coruscanti morning . A service droid clicks over and takes our orders as Caath talks up my skills with a lightsaber.

"Really, your skills have vastly improved," he says as the droid sets a cup of steaming tea in front of him. "Your Soresu is starting to flow the way it should." His compliment has my chest puffing out in pride. "Who would've thought," he continues "that you're the same girl who deflected a blaster bolt at Master Weia'ho the first time you held a lightsaber?" He adds with a wink.

I blush at the memory. A thirteen year old Atria with skinny legs had once accidentally sent a blaster bolt at the old master in charge of teaching basic defensive maneuvers and nearly burned a hole in one of his head-tails. Caath didn't stop laughing for hours.

I think back to our duel. While he pushed me in our skirmish, I knew he was holding back to ensure my safety. I, on the other hand, pressed my Padawan skills to the limit and barely matched his own efforts. A low sigh passes through my lips. "You keep bringing that up, you old bantha," I say. "And I'll cut your other foot off." This just makes him laugh. His left foot, claws bare on the cafeteria's linoleum, rests happily next to an android version of itself. Caath had lost his right foot on a mission years ago and has since then described himself as "the most lopsided Bothan in the Inner Rim."

The server droid comes back with our food and we poke fun at each other as the golden sun rises. As the time passes, more and more Jedi of various ranks and species arrive to eat their fill. Just a few hours later, the hall is filled with dozens of people in addition to us. It isn't until half past 8 o'clock Coruscanti time that we are approached. A human male around thirty with long, dark hair framing his face interrupts our discussion of speeder bikes to tell us my Master wished to see me to discuss something important.

"Do you know what she wants to speak to me about?" I pose. My stomach dropped at the mention of my quiet, mild mannered teacher having something big to tell me. Was I to face my trials today?

"No," the dark-haired Jedi responds. "Only that she wishes to see you immediately." He leaves with swish of his cloak.

I look questioningly at Caath and he shrugs his wide shoulders. "Better hurry, my little youngling," he says. "You don't want to keep Master Falwin waiting."

I stand and bid my friend a brief farewell and hurry to the accommodation sector of the Jedi Temple. My Master, a very well known Jedi, was a Devaronian woman of forty named Genia Falwin. I had been with her for numerous years and she was responsible for the majority of my combat and force training. Remarkably tall with a pink tinge to her skin and shaggy white hair down her back, her age was just beginning to touch her, making the wrinkles around her eyes prominent. Two large, coin like black spots adorning her forehead were the only alien things about her otherwise kind and pensive face. She was known for being the only female currently sitting on the Jedi Counsel as well as being a powerful seer. She was one of only a handful of individuals known for this talent.

I arrive at her chamber to find the door slightly ajar. "Come in," she calls from somewhere inside. I push my way into her personal quarters. I am immediately struck by the foreignness of her main room, as I usually am. Half of the opposite wall is made of thick glass allowing for a spectacular view of the city and making the space bright and fresh-feeling. A number of book shelves filled the wall where neither doors nor the large window were present. A curious smell, something earthy from her home world, always clung to the air here. Currently, the tall, slender woman was sitting cross-legged on a woven mat facing the window.

I walk quietly to where she sits. I try to gauge her expression but she reveals nothing. Her eyes remain closed and deep in thought.

"Won't you join me, child?" she asks in a clear voice. I sit as she does and close my eyes as well, waiting for her to tell me why she summoned me. After a moment of meditation, she does.

"Tell me, Atria, of what you know about your home world."

My nose wrinkles in confusion and I hesitate before I respond. "I don't know much," I admit. "I was taken several months after I was born to two factory workers on Cloud City. Bespin is a gas giant with numerous moons and is a major source of Tibanna gas. I haven't returned since," I add after a moment.

Genia processes this unremarkable information. Why was she interested in Bespin? She could've found out what little information I knew about my home world from nearly anywhere.

"Is there anything else?" she asks. I bite my lip. Genia was a great master of the force and had trained several very successful, mentally powerful Jedi Knights. It was a shock to me, along with everyone else, when I was selected during the apprentice tournament to be the only Padawan learner to study beneath her. I had always felt more comfortable with the physical aspects of the force, but Master Falwin confided in me that she was destined to train me. Up until recently, I saw no evidence to support this claim. However, something changed just weeks ago.

"I don't know," I tell her. "Sometimes I…see things… I dream." This confession was my first acknowledgement that something bizarre was happening. Amid the regular dreams I have, there are things that feel all too real. A dark skinned man arriving home from work. The smell of the city. Clouds that cover the sky. I would say that they're memories, but I was far too young when I left to know anything of home. With my training for the Jedi Trials, I've tried to push these images during my waking hours, but they always return at night.

"Hmm," my master muses. I sneak another glance at her and see a slight frown curving her lips. "What do you make of them?"

"They're…" I begin. "Nice. What do you make of them?"

She waits a moment before responding. "I think they are a previously unknown link between your mind and the force," she states. She was not known for her subtlety. "I think your unconscious mind is looking for something and you're using the force as a conduit."

I don't know what to say. Yes, the dreams are odd, but they seem benign in every way.

"I had a vision," she continuous. "Of you on Bespin," she says. I don't doubt her abilities. Genia sometimes answered questions I hadn't asked yet so a glimpse into the future didn't seem too far out of her capabilities. "I felt a great darkness," she concludes. I think a moment before speaking.

"What else did you see?" I ask quietly.

"Nothing," she responds. "Only you arriving on a cloudy world in search of this darkness. I felt your anger, too."

I am stunned. I look inwards for any anger and find none. I had never desired to go back to Cloud City, least of all in search of something dark within the force. "Why are you telling me this, Master?" I say.

Genia finally opens her grey eyes and looks deep into my hazel ones. "So you understand why we're going there."

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_**Boom! Leave me a review if you like where this is going. 'Til next time!**_


	3. Departures

_**Voila! I was busy graduating from High School this week, but I am back. Read and review~**_

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My mind goes blank. Then a hundred thoughts crash into me.

Genia answers my unasked question. "As soon as possible," she states. "But we will not be going without caution."

She pauses, waiting for me to form a coherent thought. None come.

"You must be very careful, Atria," my Master warns. "Meditate on this information. It will undoubtedly take several weeks before the council approves this mission, even with myself on the council, so we've no excuse to be unprepared. " She closes her eyes and says nothing more.

I shakily get to my feet at the clear dismissal and bow once. Without a word to anyone, I make my way to my own personal quarters, close the door and blinds and focus on my breathing.

In. Out. Again. I don't even know what to think, let alone make of this information. I strip down and enter my shower. I turn the water to the hottest level and feel it comfort my aching muscles. I let it drip through my thick, dark hair as the perspiration I shed in training this morning is washed away, whilst doing my best to think of nothing. I carefully towel dry my hair and body, even take the time to comb through my damp locks. I sigh as I put down my hairbrush.

No more avoiding it. I think about the future and my dreams, but mostly of the cloudy city where I was born. I fall into my silky bed and close my eyes.

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"So," Caath says, feet resting on the grass in front of him. "When do I become a Master?"

"Caath, please, I'm being serious."

"I am too."

It had been a few days since my meeting with Master Falwin. I had meditated for hours upon hours to no avail and now, after seeking some sort of wisdom from my closest friend, I sit in a large, outdoor park in the Temple near a sizable pond, trying to avoid frustration.

"Caath, this is serious," I say. "This is not the time for jokes." A multitude of birds fly over head and land on the far bank. "Please, my friend?" I plead.

Caath sighs and his fur ripples in response to a shift in his emotions. "Do you want my advice?" he asks. I nod eagerly. "You need to be very careful, my young friend. If Master Falwin says to keep your eyes open, then I suggest you do just that."

My face must have shown some of my frustration, because he raises his furry hands and adds "Calm yourself, Atria. I'm not the seer here."

"Well then that makes two of us," I respond, sinking into my grassy seat. The only thing I had learned from my meditations was that my Master was wrong about one thing. "Despite what my Master thinks, I don't possess any of those talents."

"You can't say that just yet," he countered. "You're how old? 18?" I huff at this, disliking his dismissiveness in regard to my young age. He opens his maw to speak once more, but pauses, looking over my shoulder. I sense someone approaching our rendezvous.

I turn as well to look at this newcomer. An attractive, lavender skinned Twi'lek woman of about 21 in a pair of dark pants and shirt walks confidently towards us. When she comes closer, I see her lekku are long and have light, symmetrical tattoos etched on from the tops to about three-fourths of the way down each head-tail. Her eyes are blue and reassuring. I sense her force capabilities and feel her doing the same for me. She stops a few feet to my right and Caath jumps to his feet. I do the same, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"Elle!" he cries, rushing forward to hug the taller woman. She laughs and embraces the hairy life form.

"Hello, Caath," she chuckles. Her voice sounds warm and friendly. "You're well, I hope."

"Couldn't be better," he says, releasing her from his broad-shouldered grip. "Oh, this is my friend, Padawan Atria," he gestures to me.

"Hello," I muster, bowing my head in a more formal greeting.

"Elgin'Onna Ki," she mirrors my motion. "It is my pleasure."

"Elle," Caath interrupts. "What brings you here?" I try to swallow the lick of annoyance that rises up.

"Sadly, not for entirely social reasons," she says. She turns her light eyes back to me. "Master Falwin has a mission for you, young Viula."

My stomach plummets and Caath gives me a somber look.

"Do you know anything of it?" I try to sound nonchalant and fail miserably.

"Yes," she says with a smile. "In fact, I'll be taking us straight to Cato Neimoidia."

"Wha-oh" I babble. I feel a flicker of confusion in Caath too. He steps forward.

"Yes, Cato Neimoidia," she reiterates. She glances at Caath, but acts as if she notices nothing. "There have been rumors of an important enemy of the state hiding amongst the wealthy. Master Falwin has tasked us to find, apprehend, and bring him into custody."

"I wish to speak to Master Falwin," I reply.

"There is no time," Elgin'Onna counters. "We are to leave immediately. Our ship is waiting."

I find myself following the beautiful Twi'lek away from my friend, leaving him alone save for the birds and the sun.

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_**Did you guys like it? I know there are people out there. The more reviews I get, the quicker I churn out these chapters. Thank you!**_


	4. Just 'Elle'

_**Here we go! Enjoy :)**_

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"And we have arrived," says Elgin'Onna, pressing several buttons.

I eagerly look out the window at the foreign world, looming large and turquoise while fiddling with the collar of my gaudy Neimoidian robe. The largest and wealthiest of the colonized Neimoidian worlds, Cato Neimoidia's primary terrain consisted of mountains and rock pillars, gargantuan in size, with forests of diverse wildlife closer to the ground. Because of its unusual environment, numerous elegant palaces sit carved into the rock faces and several dozen cities lay like hammocks, hanging from one pillar to the next or underneath natural arcs made by the planet herself.

As we enter the atmosphere, I see the famed cities. We pass by several that range from medium to large in size and wealthy to very wealthy. Through the light fog, our city of interest finally comes into view; Lyyros. One of the larger cities on Cato Neimoidia, it's riches are only second to the planet's capitol. It has rested for centuries between two unmoving, stone giants and boasts an under city of hanging structures as well as a thriving top-side.

While Elgin'Onna takes us in slowly, I mentally review the Halo message Master Falwin left for me.

"You are there," she had said, gentle features relaxed even in holographic form. "To apprehend a fugitive of the republic named Jorlen Prunn." Her nose gives the slightest wrinkle. "His return to Coruscant is of the utmost importance. Act as if Knight Elgin'Onna was your own master, my Padawan, and may the force be with you."

I had run over this message many, _many _times since our departure hours ago. No description of who we're looking for, no reason as to why my own Master couldn't travel with me; only the fugitive's name and the instruction to follow the Twi'lek's every command. Elgin'Onna hadn't elaborated much more than Master Falwin on our assignment, but did make for pleasant company at least. That is, until she handed me this robe. Made of heavy, scarlet cloth, with accents of rusty ginger and a collar up to my chin, it hung like a rug atop my shoulders.

"They're to help us blend in," Elle had said, wearing a similar, yet slightly prettier robe. Her light, purple skin clashed well with the blood red fabric. "I will act the part of ambassador, and you," she hesitated. "Are to be my 'servant.' It is essential that we appear to fit in seeing as our races already set us apart." I tried to satisfy myself with the fact that, while I was to be a servant, I was also on a mission of the 'utmost importance,' as my Master had said. I couldn't help but wonder why I was not sent alone. Perhaps the council needed to see my ability to work within a group or under the command of an unknown leader.

Our ship touches down lightly on the small, open space port and Elgin'Onna slips on her hood and hands me a hefty stack of credits to pay the port owner, her soft skin brushing mine. We step outside.

"Twenty," he says in a thick accent. I stumble to count them out and he snaps his long, green fingers. I hand him the credits and he speaks to a hooded Elgin'Onna over my shoulder. "Droid better."

She says nothing and walks past the Neimoidian. I follow close behind her, trying to ignore the native's comment and the blush in my cheeks. We descend a hefty set of spiraled stairs and emerge into a bustling city street.

We must have landed in the shopping district or something, because most shops along the foot road boast elegant goods in Basic as well as other alien languages. My assumption is supported when I see a female Neimoidian, clad neck to toe in blue robes with a sapphire studded head piece to match, walk out of one of these stores with two droids carrying stacks of clothing.

Elgin'Onna leads the way through the streets, releasing an air of importance through the force. I do the same and stay close to her side while the aliens, almost entirely Neimoidians, pay us no mind.

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I sit quietly waiting for my Twi'lek partner, reflecting on the concept of patience and, after nearly an hour, she emerges from the dark bar across the street. I jump to my feet and meet her.

"Did you find him, Elgin'Onna?" I ask immediately, ignoring the large pair of hooded figures smoking something a meter away.

"No," she says, more wary of our neighbors. My spirits drop, but Elgin'Onna smiles. "Better. I found his house."

My spirits rise and I mirror her smile. We jump into our rented airspeeder down the street and lift off of the ground. My stomach tumbles at the sudden change in altitude.

"You know," my companion says. "You can call me Elle. Just Elle."

"Ok," I say, stomach turning once more. "Elle."

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We veer out of traffic and head away from the city's center. Our destination, one of the extravagant palaces carved into the face of the northernmost, massive rock pillar, shines distantly in the waning evening light. Half the size of the Jedi Temple back home, it was here where Elle said her informant said we could find our quarry.

Our communicator beeps as we near the domicile and a brash male voice speaks. "State your business," he demands, speaking in what I now recognize as a Neimoidian accent.

"_L'a heeting," _Elle responds in Neimoidian. "We are here on official business of Lyrros. We wish to-"

"State your business," the voice repeats, this time more forcefully.

Elle drops her ambassador façade. "Two hundred?" she asks.

He pauses. "Three. Come around." Elle clicks the communicator off and shows me her trademark smile.

"I didn't know you could speak Neimoidian," I say, fiddling with my thick hair, pinned back the way many haired servants wear it.

She laughs, musical notes filling the air, while she parks in the speeder-port. "With enough Credits, anyone can."

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_**The next chapter is already written, so expect that in a day or two. Review!**_


	5. Mistaken Identities

_**Time to meet the house owner! Please read and review, y'all!**_

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We are greeted by a large Neimoidian in dark purple combat gear. He carries a lethal looking blaster rifle aimed at our heads. I notice a winged crest on his breast. A pair of battle droids stand behind him, thin and tall like the Neimoidian and bearing the same crest on their chest plates. I think of the sleek lightsaber resting against my hip and know I'll be shot before I have a chance to defend myself against an assault.

"Credits," he grunts. Elle hands the man his money.

"Do you know where we may find our host?" she purrs.

"Lord Boze is waiting for you on the observatory deck," he says, unaffected by her charm. "I will bring you to him now."

We are led, blasters to our backs, to an elevator. The armed guard grabs my shoulder with a heavy hand and glares at me with large green and red eyes. His pupils, or equivalents, are horizontal and trained solely on mine. "Your hands," he says.

I keep my breathing even as I lift my hands, palms up, and the Neimoidian slips heavy shackles to each wrist. His hands are nimble and precise. I look at Elle while he does the same to her, but she appears to be at complete ease, hood slipped off and tattooed lekku out in the open. Our guard barks something in Neimoidian and the elevator stops a hundred floors up. "Walk," he says as the doors open.

The room we enter is more like an extremely expensive hallway than a 'room'. With windows on either side and posh art pieces lining the walls and sitting on platforms, the observatory deck stretches on for several dozen feet. We do as the guard says and quietly continue forward. The sunset views of both the city far bellow us and wildlife resting on the cliffs are both spectacular. As I look, I see a large set of Hawkbats eat something that stains their beaks red. In front of me, I can see a stooped man in amethyst robes, looking at the views on the other end. He is surrounded by a dozen b1 battle droids, all armed with blasters. There are several cloaked figures among the mechanical guards. I reach out with the force and feel the blasters and other weapons hidden within their folds.

We come to a halt next to a priceless statue of a Neimoidian woman and he turns. His mottled green skin is as mature and weathered as century old brick. I am confused as to why the Council sent two Jedi to escort him back when, by the looks of things, a strong wind could as just as easily take care of him.

"Hello, I am-" Elle begins.

"Silence!" the Neimoidian guard behind us yells, aiming his gun at Elle's head. I feel a rising tension in the air and try to keep my breathing even. Elle reaches out, this time with the force, to calm everyone in the room. I hear the guard cautiously lower his gun behind us.

"Lord Boze," corrects the brute with deliberate articulation.

A cloaked figure, one of the tallest and directly next to Boze, leans toward the ancient Neimoidian and whispers in his ear. His bizarre eyes, narrowed with age, squint further. The cloaked being straightens up and I feel his eyes on me.

"What do you want?" Boze croaks at us.

"Lord Boze," Elle starts, more cautious this time. "We are here on behalf of Lyyros' High Council. We-" he cuts her off with a raised hand. He then points one of his long, arthritic fingers at me.

"Speak," he commands. My mouth dries instantaneously, but I know I cannot refuse.

"Lord Bozzze," I venture, speaking the unfamiliar name. He tilts his head and squints his large eyes even further. "My Master and I are here on behalf of the High Council of Lyrros," I say, repeating Elle's cover story. "They wish to see you immediately."

He continues to examine the two of us. He only speaks when he is satisfied with what he sees. For the first time, Elle looks unsure.

"What is your name?" he asks, still speaking to me.

"Atria," I say, taken aback. Guns train themselves on me before I add "Lord Boze!" as an afterthought. They stay raised in my direction. They appear to have no qualms with executing a manner less servant.

"Atria," Lord Boze says slowly, clicking his tongue over the 't'. "You lie…Jedi."

With a hiss of disgust, the guard behind us changes his blaster from stun to kill. As he thumbs the switch on his weapon, Elle moves in a flash of scarlet. Before he realizes what's happened, the guard's shooting hand falls to the floor and Elle stands uncuffed, yellow lightsaber pointed to the old Neimodian. By the time the brute behind us yells a second later, my shackles join hers on the ground, blue blade extended to its full length as well. The old Neimoidian continues to survey us as his droids march in front of him.

"This can still be resolved peacefully, Jorlen Prunn," says Elle. The large alien behind us whimpers quietly. "Or Boze, if that's what you go by now."

I feel his confusion as he croaks out "What did you call me?"

Something is wrong. "You can stop acting, Prunn," I say, trying to sound strong and in control. "You are coming with us."

Rage twists his features. "I am not a 'Prunn', Jedi scum!" he shrieks. "But you, Atria, are _dead._"

Then his droids fire.

Bolts fly and I call upon the force. My hands move and each shot is intercepted by my blade, bouncing in every which direction, but the droids continue their onslaught. My blade dances all around me while my feet stay firmly planted on the ground. My robe hinders my movements slightly, but my wall of defense is near impenetrable .

Elle reacts more offensively, using the force to seize the statue of the Neimoidian woman and hurl it into the center of the crowd of spindly droids at an angle. It crashes into the machines with a tremendous noise, scraping across the ground and pushing all but four of the machines beeping out of the right windows. The ruined work of art tumbles through the shattered glass and the remaining droids rush forward.

Elle cartwheels backwards and throws her lightsaber, impaling the closest in the chest. The stream of shots is considerably thinner and I send a pair of poorly placed bolts back into the droid that shot them. He falls on his face, circuits fried and smoking. The remaining two skid to a stop, mechanical brains realizing they are impossibly outmatched. Almost comically, they look at one another for direction. Elle takes a step forward with her retrieved weapon and spins, bringing her canary-yellow blade around to behead both in one sweeping motion before they can try anything. Their bodies crumple and heads roll off.

In less than thirty seconds, we had decimated each of the twelve military level battle droids.

The old Neimoidian yells something in his native tongue and his cloaked warriors step forward, removing their coverings. I see tattoos on scarred skin, shining chest plates, sharp teeth, and weapons of every shape and size. One stands out, however: The tall being who I could feel staring at me.

A human male in his late twenties steps forward in a dark tunic and a pair of sturdy pants with a utility belt. He has short, brown hair and his eyes look light. He bears an amused smile on his lips. He looks totally unremarkable. However, it's what he holds that makes him stand out.

"Hello," he says, thumbing the power button on his long lightsaber. Two dark, violet blades emerge from either end with a deep hiss. "I'm Jorlen Prunn."

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_**Plot twist! Our Jedi friends done goofed. See ya next time!**_


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